by Harold R Hunt Sr
Grandpa got the boys to gather at night.
Grandpa on the fiddle is so sweet.
Old Pa on the big bass can really make it sing.
Uncle Joe plays a mean wash tube.
While I slap the knees with my spoons.
The sound of old rocky top
Brings the valley to the hills.
We play all night long
As the sing the songs.
The hills do rock to the hillbilly sound.
Of nothing can be finer the being in Carolina.
Hillbilly music is the sweetness of the hills.